The Zimventures 5: Salvation
by tusitalabruni
Summary: Cris Zim must put right what once went wrong! And he messed up a lot of stuff as he time travels all over the place. This isn't just Bill & Ted and Tremors. We also have a mishmash of Zardoz, The Time Machine, The Terminator, Back to the Future, a little bit of Gunsmoke and a dash of The Lost Boys!
1. Chapter 1

The Zimventures #5

Salvation

Chapter 1:

"Hey, Stop That Guy!"

"Hey, stop that guy!"

Zim looked up just in time to see the two owners of the phone booth emerging from the Circle K with armfuls of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and 5-Hour Energy shots. Through the crackling energy all around him, he watched them running to catch up, but it was too late. The ground opened up and swallowed the phone booth. The last thing Zim saw before he rode the wormholes between space and time was the blond kid throwing what seemed like a rock at him. It clearly made impact with the antenna above him, but it did nothing to stop the movement.

Zim felt his guts press up against his throat as he hurtled back to the past. He screamed, gripping the glass walls around him to prevent himself from being shaken around like a bearing in a pinball machine. Finally his system couldn't take it anymore, and he heaved up his most recent meal in ropy clumps. The force of the booth then shook the puke around, splashing it all over Zim until he looked like a skinny Pizza the Hutt. He gagged as some of it got back in his mouth. His hands slid around, and he fell into the grungy puddle forming on the floor.

The tube opened up, and he saw through the smeared walls of the booth that he was now falling from the sky. Below was what at first looked like deserted wasteland, but as he came closer he saw there were a few buildings. It almost looked like Front Street in Dodge City. Had he finally done something right?

The phone booth crashed down, and energy crackled about before fading away. He pushed the door open and collapsed into the dust, gasping in fresh air.

"Jesus Christ, son! What the fuck happened to you?"

Zim looked up to see cowboy boots filling his vision. Then he cast his gaze up and saw the rest of the person standing over him. This guy looked nothing like the people he saw back in the Old West. He was more of a modern cowboy. The idea was reinforced by the Jeep behind him.

Zim blinked. "You look kind of like Kevin Bacon. A lot like him, actually."

"Who's Kevin Bacon?"

"He's an actor."

Another modern cowboy approached. "I don't think anyone's ever called Valentine McGee here an actor," he said. "This sumbitch's too ugly."

"Come to think of it, you look a lot like Fred Ward," Zim said.

"He an actor, too?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you'll never look like an actor," Valentine said. "You need a bath. And new clothes. You hiking through here?"

Zim turned to the phone booth, and then he realized they would never believe him. "Yeah. Just hiking."

"Got any money?"

Zim reached into his pocket and came up with nothing but lint. Maybe this was for the best. He remembered when he'd showed his money to Marshal Dillon, and he didn't want a replay of that.

"Shit, it don't cost much money around here," Valentine said. "Here's a few bucks. Get some clothes and a bath, hear?"

Zim took the money, relieved to find that it looked like his. "Yes. Thank you."

"Take care now."

"You, too."

Zim watched the two wander off, and it seemed like they were arguing. The guy who looked like Fred Ward, whose name was Earl, was pissed that Valentine was always giving bums money. They paused at the Jeep, and they quickly rock-paper-scissored for who was going to drive. Valentine won, and he got in.

Zim then turned to the phone booth and saw that the antenna had been damaged. One of the tongs was bent, and he wondered if that was the reason he'd wound up here instead of in the past. He noticed that there was something tangled in the other tongs. The blond kid hadn't thrown a rock at him. It was a 5-Hour Energy.

"Cool." He stood on tiptoes to retrieve it. "Maybe this isn't all that bad."

He downed the drink before he headed toward the general store, a place called Chang's. On the way he noticed a giant wooden water tower. It said SALVATION across it in chipped white paint. The symbolism was lost on Zim.

After talking with the clerk for a minute Zim grabbed a new set of clothes and paid for them and a bath. He considered getting a room for the night—it had been a long hard journey, after all, and he could definitely take a break from action and the Zardoz future—but he knew that the sooner he got to work on saving Mad Dog DD, the sooner he could go back to the future and get to sleep in his own bed.

The bathhouse was just like the one in Dodge City, metal tub and all. According to a newspaper he'd glimpsed, the year was 1990. Did modern people still live like this? He didn't care. The water was warm, and the suds were already thick. He got out of his scummy clothes and sank into the bath, a dumb smile on his face. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

Softly he started banging out a song on the metal tub with his knuckles. In the distance he heard a rumble, but this was the west. He figured it was buffalo or something.

Except it was getting louder.

The clerk shouted, "Graboid!"

 _What the fuck is that?_ Zim wondered. He decided he didn't care, and he continued to drum out his tune.

The hardwood floor beneath him cracked, and a chunk of it fell away. Zim whipped his head around to see what was happening only to see the biggest fucking worm he'd ever seen sticking its head out of the hole. Its giant jaws opened, and a set of smaller worms lashed out, grabbing the edge of the bathtub, pulling him closer to the hole.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

What Now?

Zim rolled out of the bathtub, and his naked sudsy body slapped the hardwood floor. He slipped and slid as he tried to back away from the giant worm. The beast pulled the iron tub into the hole, and the floor bucked again. Zim screamed.

The door burst open, and a tall skinny man with a baseball cap on his head and a thick mustache living under his nose stepped in. The man was loaded down with all sorts of guns and grenades and knives, and there was a rifle slung over his back that could have killed an elephant.

"Help!" Zim cried. He started sliding toward the hole, where the smaller mouth-worms writhed, waiting for him.

"Stand back!" the man said. He plucked a grenade off his belt as if it was a fruit, and he dropped it down the hole. There was a short explosion, and a puff of smoke drifted up from the aperture. The worm shrieked, and Zim slapped his hands over his ears. He watched in shock as the beast retreated, and the newcomer stood over the hole, staring down, fingering another grenade.

"Did you kill it?" Zim asked.

"Nah, can't kill it. The government has decided it's an endangered species. I used a concussion grenade. They don't hurt El Blanco, but they sure do scare him away. I'm Burt Gummer."

Zim stood and offered his wet soapy hand. "Zim."

Burt glanced at Zim's naked body and turned away. "I'll take your word for it."

"So, you have a name for that thing?"

"Yep. I guess he's our pet and attraction. He may be a dangerous bastard, but he's our dangerous bastard. Without him Twitchell would kick us out of our homes."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, a real estate guy wants to put a bunch of condos here in Salvation Valley, and he managed to buy the property using several shady loopholes. We were about to be moved out of here, but some conservationists came in and saved this land as the habitat of an endangered species. So long as El Blanco lives, we get to stay here."

"That's fucked up," Zim said.

"That's life."

Zim looked down at himself and picked up a towel. "I'm going to go now."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

Burt left, and Zim got dressed in his new clothes. He would never wear these in his own time, as there was far too much denim and leather involved. But it was all they had out here. As he laced himself up he started humming under his breath. It was the same tune he'd been knocking out on the tub. It took him a moment to realize that it was a Cranberries song. "'Salvation?'" he muttered. "I don't even like that song. What the fuck?"

The rumble started again, and Zim got dressed quicker. By the time he was back in the front of the store the rumbling was even louder. Burt stood near the counter, and he held a finger to his lips.

"What?" Zim asked.

"He's attracted by sound," Burt whispered. "Be quiet."

Zim stopped, and the rumbling shortly passed. He decided that it was safe to talk again. "You guys are fucked. You should move out of this horrible place."

"This horrible place is our home," Burt said. "I have a fortified compound in this horrible place that I wouldn't be able to have if I lived in some 'safe' suburban place, which is where they want us to move."

"Dude, I travel through time in a phone booth and fight monsters and stuff, and I think you're crazy."

Burt stared at him. "Well, I don't know what to say to that."

"Nothing. You say nothing to that. I gotta go. Thanks for saving my life."

It felt strange for Zim to say thank you. Maybe he was growing as an individual. He burst out the front door and practically skipped to the phone booth, whistling "Salvation" as he went. He was so consumed by this that he didn't hear the rumble of El Blanco's return, not even as he slipped into the phone booth.

He picked up the book and started flipping through it. "Let's see . . . where do I need to go?"

He thought he would try looking up Mad Dog DD by name instead of category, but that didn't seem to do the trick. Only then did he hear the thunder from down under. He looked up over the book and saw a trail of earth being thrown up as El Blanco approached the phone booth. It looked like how Bugs Bunny traveled, but this was waaaaaay scarier.

"Oh shit," he muttered. He flipped through the pages quicker, but the words and numbers were just a blur. "Ohshitohshitohshitohshit!"

"Get out of the phone booth, kid!" Burt shouted. He stood on the porch of Chang's.

"Fuck this," Zim said. He dropped the book and picked up the phone. He stabbed his fingers at random numbers and hit the star and pound key at the same time. The booth charged up, and electricity crackled as the worm came closer. Zim gripped the glass walls before remembering that they were covered in puke. Still he held tight, hoping beyond hope that he'd be able to escape.

The phone booth descended into the ground, and El Blanco brushed the tip of the antenna as the worm passed above him. Once again Zim got the impression that the antenna had been damaged, but he had no time to think about this as he spun between space and time once again at breakneck pace. He retched, but nothing came up. There was nothing left in his stomach aside from the 5-Hour Energy he'd had a few hours before, and there was no way his body was going to relinquish _that_.

This time he managed to remain standing as the phone booth zipped through the time tubes and even when he fell through the sky to land in the middle of a field, he kept to his feet. The jolt from the impact made his heels hurt, but that was it.

As soon as the bolts of energy dissipated Zim jumped out of the booth to examine the damage. Now he saw that the antenna was completely on its side. It was still attached but bent beyond all recognition.

"Fuck. This is just goddam great."

There was a commotion behind him, and Zim turned to see a crowd of people leading a hunched over man up a hill. The man carried what looked like a crossbeam, and every time he faltered some guy in a toga and a centurion helmet gave him encouragement to continue by whipping him.

 _This can't be good_ , Zim thought. _Maybe I should leave._

He looked up further on the hill to see two guys nailed to crosses. A third post stood between them, and he suddenly got the idea as to what it was for. "What does 'inri' mean?" he muttered.

Another guy in a toga, this one with a hammer and a handful of nails, noticed Zim and pointed at him. He shouted something in another language, and Zim's bladder suddenly seemed fuller. The other men, all of whom looked like very athletic military men, even if they were dressed in togas, charged Zim with their spears aimed at Zim's heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jesus Who?!

"Guys! Stop!" Zim shouted. He held up his hands. A tremendous fart shot from his body, and the force of it was so intense he was afraid that he'd shat himself. With a ginger hand, he reached behind him to make sure there were no lumps in his pants.

And then he remembered the legion of centurions bearing down on him with their spears at the ready. When he looked up he noticed that they'd all paused. Not that they'd stopped charging him, but they were frozen in place as if someone had hit the pause button on the universe.

There was a new figure standing in front of the fray, and he could move. He ambled forward, his hands held together in front of his belt. He dressed entirely in black, and his hair was cut very short. What little he had was slicked back. Festering under his lower lip like a sheen of moss was a soul patch. Strapped to his back was what looked like a katana blade.

"Who the hell are you?" Zim asked.

"Don't you recognize me?" the stranger asked.

"Well, you _do_ look kind of familiar."

"I'm you. From the future."

"Future Zim Jesus?" Zim asked.

"No, just plain old Cris Zim."

"No way. I'd never grow a soul patch."

"Well, you do in the future."

"I do not!" Zim said.

"You do! I'm proof of it! You grow a soul patch and become a supercool hip killer like me!"

"Well, you _do_ look kind of cool. Except for the soul patch."

"Jesus!" Future Zim slapped a hand over his mouth, then turned to look up the hill where the real Jesus was frozen in place, waiting for nails to be driven through his wrists. "Sorry, dude."

"Who is that guy, anyway?" Zim asked. "Should I save him? Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

"No. Let me repeat that. DO NOT SAVE JESUS CHRIST. If you think the Zardoz world is fucked up, you should see the world in which Jesus Christ survives the crucifixion."

"Jesus who?"

"I know you're not that stupid," Future Zim said. "I remember."

"Jesus Christ? Really? I'm at the crucifixion?"

Future Zim rubbed his eyes. "I don't have time for this. I can only pause time for two minutes. Listen very closely to what I say. Do not interrupt me."

"Okay."

"Get back in the phone booth and dial 9763845#*. It won't lead to where the book says because the antenna is broken. It will take you to the distant future. Say the number back to me."

"Which number?"

"9763845! Pound! Star!"

Zim repeated it three times.

"Good. There is a man in the future who has a time machine. You will have to go underground with him to find it. Then you must steal it from him because it will bring you to exactly where you want to go, which is July 8, 1875. All right?"

"Doesn't this other guy need the time machine?"

"No. If he uses it he will go back to his own time, and he'll be tempted to use it again and again, ripping holes in the fabric of time and space, which will eventually destroy all of creation. Strand him in the future where he can't do any harm."

"Isn't that the same thing I'm doing?" Zim asked. "Tampering with time?"

"No. You're putting right what once went wrong. I only have ten seconds left. Remember: the underground people hate fire. Now go! I'll hold the Romans off!"

"This is too weird for me," Zim said. "But I don't like it here, so goodbye." He started walking back toward the phone booth.

Just then the world exploded with noise, and Future Zim unsheathed his blade and went to work. He cut down the Romans with such amazing speed and accuracy that Zim had no choice but to believe the guy was a phony. There was no way that he would become Future Zim. He was too killing-machine-ish. Besides, where did he get the ability to stop time?

Things quickly became bloodier than _Braveheart_ as Future Zim whirled like a dervish through the marauding Romans, sending bits of them about in a bloody shower. A severed hand flew out of the crowd and splattered against the phone booth. Some of the red, red kroovy splashed on Zim, and he knew that if he didn't get out of here he'd get his clothes dirty. Again.

He hopped into the phone booth as the pile of bodies grew taller. He wondered if maybe the act of killing so many Romans would have a disastrous effect on the future. Probably not, since Future Zim clearly knew best.

Zim looked at the keypad and tried to remember the numbers. He always laughed at Ash in the _Evil Dead_ movies for never remembering the important stuff, but now that it was happening to him it wasn't quite so funny. He opened the booth again. "Hey, what's that number?"

Future Zim, covered in sweat and blood, decapitated a centurion and shouted the number back to him one more time. Zim entered it as he heard it. "Thanks!" He closed the door and pressed star and pound at the same time. The familiar hum and crackle began, and as he descended into the earth he watched as Future Zim disappeared, probably to go back to the future. He tried to imagine what a future without a martyred Jesus would be like. It was too hard, so he stopped.

Traveling through the wormholes was getting a little bit easier on him. He still felt like he was being flung around, but the sickness was gone. It didn't help that the booth still stank of vomit, but he knew he'd be all right. This was to be the final trip in the phone booth.

Once more he came crashing down from the sky, where he landed in a luscious field. The vegetation looked absolutely glorious, as if he'd reached paradise. This did not make sense, since the news was always full of stories about how the planet was being raped and destroyed. If that were true, then why did everything look so pretty here in the distant future?

Even the architecture looked nice. There was a giant ziggurat nearby, and a bunch of blond-haired, blue-eyed people lounging around. Was it possible that employment was finally a thing of the past? Could it be that he'd found a paradise where he could do absolutely nothing all day and not be bothered by people like Fitz, who believed in work ethic?

Then he saw what looked like a chimney in the ground, and smoke rose in a constant stream from it as if there was some kind of factory down there. He remembered what Future Zim said about underground people, so he knew what he had to do next.

But he didn't care. The future was awesome. Why be anywhere else?

He got out of the phone booth and walked to the lazy people, grinning. "Hello, everyone! My name is Cris Zim, and I was thinking about hanging out with you guys. Is there room for one more?"

"We are the Eloi," a man said. "You are welcome to join us. Rest your weary head, friend." He gestured to the ground.

Zim looked around and picked the hottest chick in the group, and he plopped down next to her. "Hey, I'm Cris. What's your name?"

Before she could answer a man burst out from the ziggurat. He did not look like the rest of the Eloi, and his face was covered in sweat. "What did you people do to Weena?!" He spoke with a British accent.

"We sacrificed her to the Morlocks," one of the Eloi said.

"You did what?!"

"We needed her sacrifice to continue living as we do," the Eloi man said.

"You fools!" The man was about to run past them to the chimney in the ground when he saw Zim. "You don't look like an Eloi. Who are you?"

"Aargh!" Zim shouted. When the man didn't laugh, he sighed. "I'm Cris Zim. I'm from the past."

"American?"

"I guess."

"Well, no one's perfect. I'm H. George Wells. Would you help me save my beloved Weena from the Morlocks?"

Zim sighed. No matter where he wound up, he was fated to never have any rest. "Fine." Then, under his breath: "Jerk."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ludicrous Speed

Zim followed Wells down the chimney into the ground. The rungs of the ladder were greasy, and with each one Zim groaned. "This is just nasty."

"We must forge ahead," Wells said. "Anything to save my Weena."

Zim sighed. Why did he have to run into so many heroes? Wouldn't it just be nicer to hang out with the chick on the surface and maybe play hide the beef stick with her?

They reached the bottom, which was dark, and jutting from the wall was a torch. "Hold this," Wells said. He handed the wood to Zim. He then ripped off a portion of his shirt and wrapped it around the top. He retrieved matches from his pocket and struck one. Just as he was about to light the torch, Zim sneezed. The flame went out.

"Sorry," Zim said. "This place is kinda dank."

Wells grimaced and reached for another match to find that there were none. "Fantastic. That was my last one."

"Uh . . . sorry. I think I have a lighter here." Zim felt around in his pockets, and then he remembered that the last time he'd had a Bic was just before he went to the Old West. "Guess not."

"Fabulous," Wells said. "What are we going to do now?"

"Wing it? I mean, it's not that dark down here."

"It's dark down _there_." He pointed to where the tunnel led down into the earth.

Zim squinted. "We can probably see. Some of the minerals down here are kind of glowy."

"And what happens when we meet with the dread Morlocks?" Wells asked. "Do you propose we fight them in the darkness, which is their natural habitat?"

"Wait! I just remembered! The Morlocks are afraid of . . ." He trailed off when he remembered what Future Zim had told him their weakness was.

"Afraid of what?"

Zim dropped the torch. "Never mind. Let's get this over with."

Wells took the lead, and Zim was able to follow him because his pure white t-shirt was so clear even in the gloom. The crystals in the walls also helped light the way. He had to squint, but he thought they were doing a pretty decent job.

"So . . . I heard you have a time machine," Zim said.

"Shh! We don't want to alarm them."

"How does it work?"

Wells sighed and came to a halt. He jammed his hand into his pocket and came up with a diamond knob on a stick. "This starts it. Are you satisfied?"

"That looks sweet as hell. Can I see it?"

Wells practically growled as he handed it over. "Fine. Just don't lose it. Without it, we're all doomed."

"Cool," Zim said. He put it in his pocket and continued following Wells deeper into the catacombs of the Morlocks. He had no idea how the Englishman knew where to go, since he was starting to see other passageways. From some nooks and crannies, Zim could see several pairs of glowing pinpoint eyes watching him.

And then the monsters were upon them. A swarm of Morlocks descended upon them, and Wells tried beating them back with savage thwacks from a staff that Zim was pretty sure he hadn't brought with them. Zim felt powerful clawed hands yank him down, trying to pin him. Their shiny teeth flashed in the little illumination down here, and they seemed hungry.

But they did not bite him.

"Fight!" Wells shouted. "We need to save Weena! They're not as strong as they look!"

Zim looked at the pale skin and the shaggy hair. They sure looked pretty scary, and their grip felt powerful. What the hell? Why not give it a shot? He shoved his hand forward into the crotch of one of the beasts, and it howled, falling back, clutching its wounded genitals.

"That's the spirit!" Wells cried.

Oddly enough the monster's texture was a bit on the soft side. Maybe Wells was right. Zim pushed the others away, and they fell. They were back up in no time, ready for the next attack, but they really weren't all that strong.

Zim and Wells might have made it if not for the sheer numbers the Morlocks possessed. They smothered them with bodies until there was no way they could fight back. Once they were bound, they were brought lower into the catacombs to a throne room. Sitting upon the throne was a Morlock, but this one was wearing more than a loin cloth: a crown. Chained up to the arm of the throne was a young Eloi woman, and she cowered at the Morlock king's feet.

"Weena!" Wells cried.

She looked up at him, but it seemed like she was too afraid to call out to him.

Zim noticed a giant contraption behind the throne. It looked kind of like a car, but it had discs and gadgets and stuff. Something this goofy could only be a time machine. He fingered the diamond knob in his pocket, and he wondered if there was any way he could make a break for it. _Probably not_ , he thought. Considering how he didn't even know how to work the damned thing.

The king stood and pointed at Wells. "Show me how to use the time machine."

"Never," Wells said. Stiff upper lip.

"You've seen how poorly we have been treated by the Eloi. I merely propose that we go to the past, to when our societies separated, to ensure that we all live a peaceful existence, not just the Eloi."

"I know what you really want. You want to destroy the Eloi, or at least break them and force them into slavery. My Weena will _not_ suffer such indignity!"

Zim yawned. He didn't really know what they were talking about, and all he really wanted to do was get to the time machine and get back to the Old West (and he really didn't even want to do that, but if he didn't, then he wouldn't have his bed to return to in 2016).

The king's next words snapped him out of it, though. "Very well. We will force the knowledge from you. Morlocks, I command you to execute his companion!" He pointed to Zim.

The Morlocks turned their glittering eyes on him, and they crowded around him, their teeth and claws eager to tear him to pieces. Zim had enough time to think about how much he hated Future Zim before they descended upon him, teeth flashing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ludicrous Speed

(This Time I Mean It!)

Zim screamed like a girl as he fell backwards, putting his hands up to cover his face and crotch. The Morlocks gathered around him, reaching down, but they never managed to grab him. There was a sudden flash, and Wells threw a burning flare into their midst. The Morlocks shrieked and backed away, rubbing their eyes.

Zim, too, rubbed his eyes. "Jesus! I can't see!"

Wells lit another flare and pushed it at the Morlock king. "Back, you swine! Weena! To me!"

The king yanked on her chain, holding her back. "You will not have her!"

Wells leapt forward, flashing the flare at his nemesis. "Release her, and I will leave you to your miserable hole in the ground!"

The king hissed, his hand hovering in front of his narrowed eyes.

Zim sat up, surprised that he wasn't as blind as he'd thought. The Morlocks were gone, and Wells was in a stand-off with their king. He wondered why Wells hadn't used the flares when they were trying to find Weena, but whatever. Everyone was distracted, and no one was watching the time machine. It was time to get the fuck out of here. As quietly as he could he tiptoed around Wells, Weena and the king until he was next to the machine. He slipped into the chair and looked around at the controls. It actually looked kind of easy to use. Easier than the phone booth, anyway. All he had to do was find the keyhole for the diamond knob.

He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. There were a few places where it might fit, and he spent the next few seconds figuring it out. Once again it was pretty self-explanatory. As soon as it was in he noticed that all he had to do was pull it down and keep an eye on the date readout.

"Hey! Stop!"

Zim looked up to see Wells rushing toward him with Weena by his side. The king crouched in a corner, covering his face as the flare burned out at his feet.

"You can't leave without us!" Wells shouted.

Zim thought about what Future Zim had said, and he knew that he couldn't stop now. "Sorry, dude. I have to save the world. It's what I do."

Hot shit! Did he really just say that? It sounded like something Clint Eastwood would have said. And he said it so well. It was a shame that no one had recorded it . . .

Wells was almost upon him, so Zim yanked down the knob. The date readout started slowly scrolling backwards.

"NO!" Wells shouted. He leaped forward, his hand reaching for the knob, but it was too late. A bubble formed around the machine, and it severed Wells's arm up to the elbow. The disembodied part dropped into Zim's lap.

"GROSS!"

The rest of Wells dropped, and Zim watched as everything ran backwards. It was actually kind of cool to watch how quickly the earth changed as time flashed back to where he needed to go. The sun and moon flew in arcs over his head, but what he at first found interesting quickly became . . . boring. And what was boring shortly became dizzying. Zim's head spun, and he felt like retching again.

"Jesus! How do you stop this thing? I feel like I'm going ludicrous speed!"

He closed his eyes, and it seemed to make things better. The hum of the machine still screwed with him, but that was at least tolerable.

The 1875 date quickly approached, and Zim pushed the knob back up. However, since he was going so fast, he hurtled past his destination. When the machine finally came to a stop, he was in 1776, and he certainly wasn't in America.

"What the fuck am I doing in Britain?" Zim looked at the Tower of London, which was where the Eloi ziggurat had been in the future. Then he realized that the time machine could not traverse space. Which meant that there was no way he could make it to America.

He threw back his head to the sky. "FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!"

"Halt!"

Zim looked around him and noticed that a group of Redcoats had surrounded him. They all aimed flintlock rifles at him, bayonets affixed. "Uh, hey guys." When he stood up, Wells's severed arm fell out of his lap.

"He's an American," one of the Brits said.

"And a murderer," said another. He pointed to the bloody limb.

"You are under arrest," yet another said. "Come peacefully, or we'll be forced to make an example of you."

"I just can't win, can I?" Zim muttered. "Oh yeah, and fuck you, Future Zim, wherever you are. I should have stuck with the phone booth."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Older but Not Much Wiser

NINETY-NINE YEARS LATER . . .

Zim couldn't believe it. After all this time he was finally going to get back to Dodge City. After becoming a bank robber, having adventures on the high seas, fighting Indians and traveling across half of America he was _en route_ to Dodge City. From the platform on the train he could see Front Street in the distance. The time machine was in a crate in the cargo car. It was going to be delivered to the Dodge House where he would use it to escape into the future, to his present, after saving Mad Dog DD's life.

Zim went back inside the car, and he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the glass of the window. Fitz and Brandon would never recognize him, not with this ridiculous waxed mustache, pince nez spectacles and a bowler hat.

He sat down across from the hottest chick he could find, but before he could introduce himself a man who was clearly her husband returned from the platform and sat next to her. Zim sighed and thought about all the events that had brought him here.

When he'd been confronted with the Redcoats he was slick enough to push the diamond knob forward, which sent him hurtling into the future again, thus saving his life. He came to a stop in 1875 where he discovered a bank had been built three years before in that very place. Since he was in need of period money he went back to when they were building the place, and then he dragged the time machine to where the massive vault would be built. He then went back into the future, helped himself to as much money as he could grab, then went back a few years to a safe place. There he took refuge and started living the life of a gentleman. With the cash he'd stolen he made a name for himself and wound up making friends with a young H. George Wells before he'd made his time machine.

Then Zim set up a residence for himself near where the bank would be so he could drag the machine over to his property. He was proud of himself for coming up with such an ingenious plan. He traveled back to 1875, a few days before the bank robbery that he would later commit, and he started making arrangements to have the time machine shipped to Dodge City, Kansas.

Having lots of money was really cool. Zim didn't have to make any effort to have the thing shipped. Workers came over and crated it up. They even hauled it down to the shipyard and loaded it onboard. All he had to do was pay them and also pay for his own journey.

So many other things happened on his way to this moment. Pirates and cannibals tried to board the ship, but British soldiers managed to defend them pretty well. When Zim got to America he boarded a train to Dodge City, but along the way they were attacked by nation after nation of angry natives. Zim learned how to shoot, and he'd managed to build up quite the body count. He surprised himself with his defensive abilities. His appearance wasn't the only thing about him that Fitz and Brandon would be unable to recognize.

And now here he was, stepping off the train and walking up to the depot mere days before his adventures in the Old West were supposed to begin. He paid all the proper parties and oversaw the shipping of the time machine to the Dodge House. It was too big, so they had to leave the crate outside in the back lot of the inn.

Since he had a few days he thought he'd enjoy the good life . . . as much as Dodge could offer the good life. He went to Delmonico's, but he stayed away from the Longbranch. He didn't want to fuck time up too much by running into someone who might later recognize his past self. Instead he hung out at the Lady Gaye despite the horrible name. At first he was reluctant to step through the batwing doors, but as soon as he saw the inside he knew there was nothing gay about this place.

Mostly he hid out in his room at the Dodge House. Sometimes he'd look out the window and see Marshal Dillon strolling around with Chester Goode by his side. Once he even saw Josh Randall snooping around town.

And then came the day that he saw himself, wandering around town with cowshit on his pants. He grimaced at the sight of himself. He couldn't believe he looked so stupid, but maybe that was par for the course.

Now that Past Zim had arrived, Zim decided to stay in the hotel until the moment of truth. That way he'd be sure not to run into himself and cause . . . what was it? A pair a' cox? Something like that.

The next day, when he knew Past Zim would still be busy either with the jail or with the shootout at Doc's place, he snuck out the back of the Dodge House and crossed the tracks, looking for the place where he was supposed to meet with Mad Dog DD. He was about a half an hour away from the moment he would put a bullet into DD's seemingly useless body, so he knew he'd have to prowl around a bit.

Then there was a loud POP behind him, and he turned to see a bubble forming in reality. Zim looked around, but no one was there to see what he was looking at. The air shimmered and crackled, and Zim reached into his shoulder holster to pull out the small revolver with which he'd become so proficient. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew it couldn't be good when a giant sizzling bubble formed out of thin air.

It melted away, and there was a very large, very muscular man kneeling on the road. The first thing he noticed was the crewcut, and then Zim noticed the guy was naked. When the man started to stand, Zim turned his head away to avoid looking at this muscle man's junk.

"Cris Zim?" The man had a thick Austrian accent.

"Sure," Zim said. He strained not to look.

"I have been sent from the future to terminate you."

"With what? Your dick? I'm busy. Go away."

When the man charged forward he did so with a series of clicks and whirs as if he was some kind of a robot. There was also a gleam of red from behind his eyes, and Zim felt like maybe he was wrong about trying to ignore this guy. He whirled around, but when he saw how close the guy was he was certain he'd never get his gun up in time.

"Aouaugah!" the robot man roared. Zim cringed, prepared to die.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Salvation?

Zim was quicker than he realized. After all these months of travel and battle his reflexes and aim were impeccable. He emptied his entire revolver into the giant naked man who sounded like a robot, and he hit his mark each and every time. Holes opened up in the guy's chest, but much to Zim's dismay he noticed that there was something silvery behind the man's skin. Yep, definitely a robot.

The bullets had not done anything to slow the man's relentless attack. Zim knew that there was no chance of reloading and trying again. Besides, what good would it do? No, the only thing he could do was run, which he did. The naked man's footsteps were hollow against the ground, and they never varied their stride. There was no doubt in Zim's mind that this thing was going to catch him and destroy him.

He rounded a corner, hoping to gain a little ground, when he literally ran someone down. They fell to the ground, tangled in each other's bodies. When Zim pulled himself away he saw that it was Mad Dog DD.

"Hey, watch where you're going, buddy," DD said.

"You!" Zim shouted.

"Yeah, so? Do I, like, know you or something?"

Zim pushed himself to his feet and grabbed DD by the hand. "Come with me if you want to live!"

DD yanked his hand back. "I'm not queer. I'm not going with you."

"Free booze!" Zim yelled.

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

The Terminator came crashing around the corner, and as soon as he saw DD he reached out his hand and grabbed the Mad Dog by his head.

"Hey! What's going on?!" DD cried.

Those were his last words. DD's skull splintered, and his head collapsed under the Terminator's grip.

"No!" Zim yelled. After all this effort, and DD was doomed to die anyway? How could this be? Zim was smarter than he'd ever been, and he'd put so much thought into this. How could this plan have failed?

The Terminator gave another gargled war cry, and he charged at Zim, eager to crush his head, too.

Zim waited for the words "to be continued" to appear at the bottom of the screen. He liked it when that happened because it gave him a whole day to figure out how he was going to get out of a cliffhanger, but they never came. Time _did_ freeze, though, just like it did back when he'd been confronted by the Romans. The Terminator paused in mid-air, his arms outstretched to grab Zim.

Zim looked around, and sure enough, there was Future Zim . . . except this time he looked different. He still wore the cool outfit and the sword, but his face was criss-crossed with scars, and he was missing a few fingers. One of his eyes was covered in a patch. Was he a pirate in the future? And dammit. Of all things, why did he still have the soul patch?!

"You have no idea how badly you've fucked up this time," Future Zim said. "This time the Zardoz future is overcome by the Terminator future. The evil robots, of course, win. However, they've discovered if you save Mad Dog DD, their future will be unwritten. They're going to keep sending Terminators back in time to stop you until you can definitely save DD."

"Well, I can't really do that now. Look. He's dead." Zim pointed.

"I can see that. You have to figure out a way to stop that from happening. Again."

"No, screw you," Zim said. "I've had it with this crap. Here you are, jumping around time with the ability to freeze everyone in place. Why don't _you_ do this stuff? You're clearly enough of a bad ass to do it. You took on a legion of centurions the last time I saw you. Come on, man! You can do this!"

"No. Any change I make can be undone. You, however, are a constant. No matter what timeline you're in, you always remain the same. Any change you make is permanent, don't you get that?"

"But you _are_ me," Zim said.

"Not yet," Future Zim said.

Zim rubbed his forehead. "You're giving me a headache."

"The best cure for it is to just do what I tell you," Future Zim said.

"Fine. What do I do?"

Future Zim smiled. "Where did you put the time machine?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Zim Does Something Useful and Pays the Consequences

Zim was really glad he took the time to learn how to ride horses. The last time he was in the Old West he was absolutely terrible at it, but now he was practically a master. In fact he kind of liked being a horse driver. Now he sat on the buckboard of a wagon, lashing the horses forward with the crated time machine and a couple of workmen in the back.

He approached the part of town where his other self would soon be hanging around, waiting for Mad Dog DD to arrive. He had to be careful to avoid himself, but he was pretty sure everything was going to be good. All he had to do was arrive before his other self did. The thought made his head hurt, and he missed the days when there was only one other Zim he had to deal with.

He reached his destination about an hour early, and he examined the street where the Terminator had arrived. It was difficult to locate the exact pinpoint where this had happened. Since it hadn't happened yet, the scorch marks hadn't yet been made in the road. Still he had a fairly good idea, so he marked the dirt with the toe of his boot.

"Okay, guys," he said. "This is the place. Put it down here." He pointed to the indentation.

Two workmen climbed out of the back of the wagon, and they gingerly lowered the crate to the ground. From there they pushed it to where Zim wanted it, and with the use of crowbars they opened up the package. The time machine was on display for everyone else.

"Jesus," one of the workers said. "That's a fucked up lookin' thing."

"What is it?" the other asked.

"It's a . . . a thing," Zim said.

"Fucked up lookin' thing."

Zim handed them their money. "Yeah, thanks guys. If I need you I'll find you."

The workers got back into the wagon and rode off, leaving Zim and the time machine in the middle of the street. Granted, it wasn't a big street, nor was it busy, but he felt it was still a bit brazen. He hoped the other Zim wouldn't think too much of it.

Speaking of which, Zim rushed away to hide, just in case. He didn't want to do that pair of cocks thing he'd heard about. He found what looked like an abandoned barn (although he knew it was on the property of a house that was clearly occupied), so he snuck in and found a good vantage pointing the loft. He perched up there, watching the time machine below.

He waited, and sure enough—right on time—his past self came sneaking up the street. Other Past Zim paused at the time machine, scratching his head, and Zim remembered how confused he'd been at the time. It was weird to suddenly have a memory that he hadn't had before.

Zim checked his watch. It was almost time. His hands curled into fists without him realizing it. The one drawback to this was that he was going to be able to see himself acting like a pussy. He didn't think he was ready for something as mind-blowing as that.

The air started to crackle down by the time machine, and a bubble started forming. Zim's heart sped up, and he hoped Future Zim's plan would work. If this failed he didn't want to see what it would do to his future self, or how many limbs it would cost him.

The bubble grew larger, and there was a pop as the displaced air was suddenly full. The sphere split open, and the Terminator arrived . . . but not in the way it probably expected.

Zim gave a shout of triumph as he watched the Terminator struggle with suddenly becoming part of the time machine. The two melded together, and the machine shook as the Machine tried to break free. "Aouaough!" the Terminator cried.

There was another pop as a parallel universe imploded, and Zim found himself standing in the street next to the Terminator Time Machine, where Other Past Zim had been standing moments ago. The sudden transportation rattled Zim's guts, but he had taken care to not eat today. There would be no more puking for Mama Zim's son.

"Dude. What the hell is that?"

Zim turned to see Mad Dog DD staring in awe at the display before him, pointing. "That? It's nothing, really. Check it out." Zim leaned forward and pressed the knob up. The Terminator roared, trying to reach its head out enough to bite Zim's hand. It was to no avail. The time machine vanished into the future, and it brought the Terminator with it.

"Dude. That's hardcore."

"Yeah," Zim said. "Hey, stick around for a little bit, would you?"

"Like, why?"

"I don't know. Let's get a beer."

"I . . . uh, don't have a lot of cash."

"I'm a millionaire," Zim said. "I'm buying."

"Well, since you put it that way . . ."

Later, as Zim sat with DD, drinking in the Lady Gaye, he came to the conclusion that defeating the Terminator hadn't really helped him out. Now he was stuck in the past with no possibility of getting back home. Even worse, he was stuck with DD, who had just decided that Zim was his bestest friend in the whole wide world. Sure, Zim was a rich man in the Old West, but they didn't have proper toilets, air conditioning was still seventy years in the future and the beds were uncomfortable. Also, the Old West smelled like shit. Literally.

"We should, like, hang out," DD said.

"That's what we're doing now."

"But, like, I have a barber shop quartet. You should check us out."

Zim looked at his pocket watch. By now Past Zim had probably passed up the point where he would have killed DD. Just to be safe Zim ordered another beer. As he thought about what was going on he wondered if maybe Future Zim gained control of time and space for a reason: out of necessity. Future Zim had to have been stuck in the past, after all. Maybe he evolved and gained the ability to time travel.

He squinted his eyes shut and concentrated with all of his might, so much so that his body started to shake. Then he opened his eyes and noticed that he was still in the same place. "This sucks."

"Yeah. You wanna go to the Longbranch?" DD asked. "They have better scenery, if you know what I'm saying."

Zim sighed. He didn't want to run into any familiar faces, so he declined. Zim sighed again. He sighed a third time, and this one was so tremendous that everyone in the room looked at him.

Could he really be stuck in the past like this? With DD?! He had saved the world by saving the mad dog, he was certain of it. And this was the thanks he got?

"I really, really hate the world. I should have never moved in with Fitz. I should have never played with that stupid flask thing. I hate everything."

"Hey, it's not all bad," DD said. "We have beer, and we have each other. Good times."

Zim fought the urge to scream for eternity. Instead he sighed a fourth time and resigned himself to his fate.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Zim Loves It When a Plan Comes Together

Zim looked at his pocket watch again. Mad Dog DD was definitely safe. "All right, let's settle up the tab and get out of here."

"Sure," Mad Dog DD said. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know where you're going, but I'm going to my hotel room."

"Hey, that's cool. We can hang out there."

"No. No hanging out. I'm going to sleep for at least fifteen hours."

"That's no fun."

Zim's eyes narrowed, and he wished he'd let DD die. Then he remembered that he had, but the space/time continuum had other ideas for this asshole. "Goodbye."

Zim stood and dropped a few gold coins on the table. He then headed for the batwing doors, and DD followed like a puppy. They both stepped outside, and Zim wiped the booze sweat from his brow.

"Where are you staying?" Mad Dog DD asked.

"Shut up," Zim said.

DD laughed as if Zim had just told a joke.

It was then that the sun glinted off a metal object poking out of a pile of manure. The flask-like device that had brought Zim out to the Old West in the first place. In the distance, someone screamed. "INJUNS! THEY'S A INJUN RAID ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN!"

 _Ping_! A light bulb went on over Zim's head, and a plan started to form. It was actually an amazing plan, but it would only work if he wasn't too late. He stopped only long enough to grab the flask. Then he rushed to the livery stable and shouted for the owner. "How much for a horse? I need it immediately!"

The old guy scratched his balding head. "Uh, buy 'er rent?"

Zim's thrifty nature quickly took over the situation. "Uh . . . rent, of course."

"Five dollars a day."

Zim slapped the cash into the old man's hand. "Give me a horse! Any of them!"

The stableman picked one, saddled it up and brought it out to Zim. "Take good care of her. She's one of my best."

Zim mounted the horse without comment, then worked it up to a mad dash. Dust flew as he rode toward the outskirts of town.

DD remained standing at the stable. "Hey! What about me? Don't I get a horse?"

By then Zim was too far ahead to hear him, and even if he had he would have ignored DD. Fuck him. The mad dog was saved, and Zim didn't need to have anything more to do with him.

The ride was brief, and he could see the dust from the charging natives even as he heard the battle. Soon war cries filled his ears, and the screams of the dying soon overcame every other sound. Then he saw the person he was looking for: Doc Brown. There was an arrow sticking out of his body, and the Comanche around him held their weapons at the ready. It looked like the scientist was about to be scalped.

Zim drew his revolver and howled like Wyatt Earp had taught him in Tennessee. The Comanche looked up, surprised by this sudden intrusion, and Zim rode into their midst, making every shot in his pistol count. One, two, three, they went down with bullets in their heads.

The others quickly scattered, and Zim reached his hand down to the doctor. "Need a lift?"

"Great Scott!" Doc Brown cried out. "Zim! I thought I'd never see you again! I thought I was dead for sure!"

"There's still a chance. We have to get you out of here. Grab my hand."

Doc Brown feebly tried, but the arrow had sapped his energy dry. "I'm done for, my boy! Save yourself!"

"That's what I'm trying to do. I need you alive to build me a time machine so I can go back to, well, you know."

"I can't make it!"

"Goddammit." Zim jumped down, shocked that someone could be lazier than he was. He snapped the shaft of the arrow off to make things easier, and then he picked up the scientist and slung him over the horse's back. Zim mounted up and turned around, eager to get back to town.

But as he turned he found himself confronted with what seemed like half the tribe. They were in a line almost like a wall, and they each had their bowstrings drawn, arrows nocked. They were all aiming at Zim.

Zim slapped at Doc Brown's shoulder. "I think we're about to die."

But it was too late. Doc Brown didn't respond because he had died.

Zim squeezed his eyes shit. "Oh fuck." He then heard the twangs as the Comanche fired their arrows at him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Fitz Ex Machina

There was a series of metallic clunks, and when Zim opened his eyes he was surprised to find that he was indeed still alive. The Comanche stood in a line, eyes wide, their bows empty. The arrows all rested—broken—on the ground near Zim. How could this have happened? Was Zim now arrow-proof? Did he have powers?

"Hey Zim! Up here!"

Zim cast his gaze above him to see . . . the DeLorean?! How was that possible? Hadn't it been destroyed upon his arrival to the Zardoz future? There was Doc Brown at the wheel, and Fitz hung out the open door, lowering a rope. He wore the weird glasses and the yellow slicker from when he'd visited the future to prevent the end of the world.

Zim looked around and saw that Doc Brown was on the horse, dead. How could he be in two places at the same time? Pair o'cox?

The Comanche reloaded their bows. Fitz shouted, "Grab the rope, you moron! We gotta get out of here!"

"Great Scott, Fitz!" Zim didn't hesitate. He grabbed the rope and wrapped his arm in it. The DeLorean soared higher, and he was lifted off the back of the horse. The Comanche watched, terrified, as Zim sailed through the air and out of danger. They did not even bother to fire after him.

As they went higher Zim caught—out of the corner of his eye—the other DeLorean, the one driven by Past Zim, who was undoubtedly on his way to the Zardoz future . . . except the Zardoz future no longer existed. Remembering from when he dealt with the Terminator, and time folded to eliminate a canceled alternate universe, why hadn't he found himself in his proper place in the continuum? Shouldn't it have happened automatically?

He watched as Past Zim's DeLorean sped up and vanished, leaving nothing but a pair of flame trails across the prairie. Still, Zim remained here in the Old West, clinging to the rope hanging out of the flying time machine.

Then he remembered what Future Zim had said about him being a constant. Perhaps it was because of this that he remained in the west.

The DeLorean came down to rest on a hill far away from the skirmish. It descended gently, allowing Zim to land comfortably. It was at this point that Zim noticed the dents where the Comanche arrows had clashed against the car.

When it was all the way down, Fitz jumped out. "What the fuck, man? When did you grow a mustache?"

"Dude, where did you come from? How did you know I needed help?"

"It was Doc," Fitz said. "We were heading back from the future, where we'd just saved the world, and we kind of blinked out of existence for a moment. When we came back Doc said there was a disturbance in the Force—"

"The space/time continuum!" Doc shouted.

"Right. That. Anyway, he determined it was coming from back here, so we came back to fix it, and we found you."

"So, wait a minute," Zim said. "You don't know about the flask thing yet?"

"What flask thing?"

"This?" Doc Brown held up the shiny object that had started all of this. "It looks kind of like a flask, sure. I was going to give it to you, Fitz, in case you're ever in danger."

"So you don't know about the alien drug dealer?" Zim asked. "The guy who kept saying that he came in peace."

Fitz sighed. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I just want to know why you're dressed like that. And how did you get back to the west?"

"It's a long story," Zim said. Then he remembered something he thought he should bring up. "Doc, there's something I have to tell you. About what's going to happen to you."

Doc clapped his hands over his ears. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW! I DON'T WANT TO TOY WITH THE CONTINUUM!"

"Actually I don't think you were meant to be killed by Indians," Zim said.

"I can't hear you! I can't hear you!"

"Dude, that sucks," Fitz said. "Hey Doc. I think you should really know this. Forget that paradox thing."

"NO! No! I can't hear you!"

"Ah, fuck it," Zim said. "Let's just go back to the future."

"Do you remember the date you left on?" Doc asked.

It took Zim a moment, but he figured it out and said so.

"Whoa," Fitz said. "You're Future Zim Jesus."

"Get in!" Doc Brown yelled. "I don't know how much juice I have left, but I have to get Fitz back to his time, too!"

"There's only room for two people in here," Fitz said.

"You'll have to sit on Zim's lap!" Doc said.

Fitz and Zim exchanged a glance. "No way," Zim said. "That's kind of gay."

"We don't have time for this! Get in so we can leave!"

"Don't get a boner," Fitz said.

"Fuck you," Zim said.

"I just saved your life."

"Yeah, I just saved the future."

"So did I. _In_ the future."

"The future I saved is my present. Beat that."

"Shut up!" Doc yelled. "Get in! Or I'll leave you both here to fend for yourselves!"

Zim sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

He got into the car, and Fitz eased in onto his lap. "Can I tell you what I want for Christmas?"

"Fuck you," Zim said.

Doc Brown rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a loooooooooong ride."

Soon the DeLorean pulled away from the apartment complex, and Zim was staggering up to the screen door. It was still open because he remembered he'd left it open. He pushed in and kicked his shoes off, eager for bed. In Fitz's bedroom something went off with a flash, and he assumed it was Past Zim embarking on his journey. Good for him.

Zim went into his bedroom and struggled out of his Old West clothes until he was dressed only in his boxers. He sat on the edge of his bed and prepared to lay his head down for some quality sleep. And then someone came knocking at the door.

"If that's you, Doc, I'm not answering!"

"Hurry up! We need your help!"

Zim sighed and staggered over to the front door. He peered through the peephole and saw two young men dressed in camo fatigues. They had headbands and bore crosses and stakes.

"Come on, Zim! Let us in! We know you went up against vampires before! We need your help!"

"I'm retired," Zim said.

"Retired enough to ignore bloodsuckers?!"

"I don't even know you guys."

"We're the Frog Brothers. You had to have heard of us!"

"I don't care. Go away. I'm tired."

"Fine. We can handle our own problems. Douchebag!"

Zim didn't care what they called him, as long as they went away. He crawled back to bed, and he was about to put his head down on the pillow when his phone rang. "Fuck." He picked it up. "What?!"

He was answered with the Fitz Whistle. "Where the hell are you, man?"

"Fitz, I'm not going to make it tonight."

"Come on, you pussy! You never come out! You never do anything! Stop sleeping so much and come the fuck out!"

Zim hung up on him. He didn't have the energy to argue. He turned his phone off, and finally his head met with his pillow. And as he drifted off to sleep, he realized that his pockets were full of mint-condition, old-fashioned money. That had to be worth a lot in this modern world, right?


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

All's Well That Ends

A single hand came out of the smoking chimney and landed on the rim, where it tightened until it turned white. The owner of the hand came up next, struggling because he only had one arm. The bloody stump was wrapped in his torn shirt, and he held it in the pit of his good arm. He rolled over the rim, and he came to rest on the ground, panting and sweating profusely.

The Eloi gathered around him. "H. George Wells? We could have sworn you would not come back. The Morlocks would surely have killed you."

"The killed Weena," Wells said. "I murdered my way out of there and killed every last one of them, but they still got Weena. And they almost got me." He held up his stump.

"What happened?"

His eyes narrowed, and one word escaped from between his clenched teeth: "ZIM."

He saw the phone booth nearby, and he started crawling towards it . . .

CRIS ZIM WILL RETURN IN . . . SOMEWHERE IN TIME!


End file.
